


Sixes

by Elke Tanzer (elke_tanzer)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Doppelganger, Fisting, Milking, Multi, Nightmare, Non Consensual, Orgasm Denial, moresome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-12
Updated: 2003-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elke_tanzer/pseuds/Elke%20Tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baltar's mind is a terrible thing to waste, but he's not using it much right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixes

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much a pure, undiluted, kinky orgy. And it's het. That's a first for me. I hope it works for you.

He loosely tangled his fingers through her perfect blonde hair as she licked his cock, then simply held on as she took him into her mouth and decidedly _sucked_. She was good.

Her lips were so soft, as dark red as her customary dress ever since everything had ended; her tongue was amazing, quicksilver and velvet. She teased him, suckling just his tip, and then just as he lost patience, she took him to the root. Her fingertips danced softly behind his balls, tickling, petting, driving him higher. Oh, she was so good. He closed his eyes, lost in the sensation. She was always so good...

Oh, she was really getting to business, now. Sucking him... hard, long strokes, dragging her fingertips along behind her lips on the upstroke, firmly encircling on the downstroke, her other hand rubbing firmly behind... oh...

One more solid downstroke, he was almost there... and suddenly his chest was afire. Hands, no, nails, pinching, twisting _hard_, holding firmly so as he flinched, trying to turn away from it, there was nowhere to go. His eyes flew open, but hands were suddenly on either side of his face, one just down far enough to threaten his throat... he looked down, panicked, and saw her familiar face looking up at him, his cock still deep in her mouth, her hands still moving... and yet the hands causing so much sharp pain at his nipples were also hers. And he knew the feel of her hands on his face, her fingers pressing the edge of his windpipe...

Oh.

There were _three of her_.

Oh.

Of course. Cylon. Number six.

Right.

He tried to tip his head back, slowly, and realized that he was leaning against the one who continued to grind away at his nipples. The fire hadn't diminished; it _hurt_, and the only thing even beginning to make it bearable was the now rather amused-sounding suckling hums coming from down around his prick. Her breasts were soft behind him, and the other one, the one who held one hand cupped at his cheek and the other partway 'round his throat... she was sort of above, diagonally behind and over him. She allowed him to look up at her, smiling as her one hand began to stroke his cheek rather than simply holding... some small part of his mind noted that her dress was yellow... and she whispered, "I want you to love me."

He blinked, gasped as the other gouged a nail just under his left nipple, and his eyes began to water from the sting of it. She must have taken that as a response, because she bent down and kissed his forehead, then slid one fingertip just behind his ear... he shuddered, causing even more tension in his chest as the pressure gripped and held tight...

She was petting him, gliding her fingertips over his face, his ears, his neck... oh, that was...

Pain! The one behind him had let go of his nipples and then raked her nails diagonally across his chest. The nubs throbbed a bit as blood rushed back into them, and the scratches across his chest stung. He cried out a protest, twisting around this time to be able to look at her, but as he turned she slid out from under him. She wore fiery orange, and she looked into his eyes just long enough to turn his guts to water before she pounced, nipping and biting and pinching as two other strong hands gripped his hips and his cock was swallowed whole again and the gentle stroking at the sides of his neck continued without pause...

He flailed his arms, trying to grab at the pale arms attached to that orange dress, but he only managed to catch one of them before yellow began to nibble on his ear, and he didn't want to lose that should she decide to bite down. She whispered again, low and close to his ear this time, "I want you," a soft breath, "to love," another, softly against the skin just below his ear, "me..." His skin prickled, her breath blowing across damp spots down his neck, and she began to kiss her way down to the spot where his neck met his shoulder... oh...

Orange was suddenly perched on his chest, and she was heavy. Her legs straddled the lower part of his ribcage, and she squeezed; he was having trouble getting quite enough air. Her hands scratched their way to his nipples again, and he moaned in protest. Yellow began to kiss and lick her way up the underside of his chin, and when he shook his head and tried to roll, trying to throw orange off, yellow grabbed his left ear tight and began to twist... just as the unceasing rhythm of suction down at his cock suddenly stopped, and he felt fingernails clutch not quite imperceptibly around his balls. He tried to go limp everywhere, knowing that should she decide to get serious down there, he was going to be in a world of hurt. Yellow let up a bit on his ear, and he turned his head to let her lips find his. Her lips were familiar, soft, her tongue sure and questing... it licked from left to right just along the inside of his upper lip, but he felt teeth at his right nipple. He shuddered again.

The nails seemed to have left his balls, but now there was one questing fingertip nudging back between his cheeks. His eyes fluttered open, a bit startled and not so sure what he thought of that sort of play while so outnumbered, and as he tried to look down, to catch his familiar red's eye beyond the unknown of the orange and yellow, he caught a flash of green above her.

Oh.

Not three.

Gaius, what have you gotten yourself into?

A gentle hand slid up his right calf, pushing his knee upward. He reached up to caress yellow's cheek, managed to fairly discreetly tilt his head to see beyond her... blue.

Oh...

He assumed that green was the one beginning to tickle his left foot. He squirmed, but that leg wasn't going anywhere. How many hands were holding it, anyway? The tongue just inside his upper lip swirled, the lips pressed, sucked his lip in, just hard enough to hurt, and he opened his mouth to her just as perfect teeth skated gently up the length of his cock and a flare of pain engulfed his left nipple.

He writhed... toward some sensations, away from others, nerves firing everywhere and beginning to overwhelm him.

When yellow let his mouth up for a desperate gulp of air, he realized that both of his legs were being held up, bent, exposing him completely, and there was a fingertip just a tiny bit up inside his ass. Somehow he didn't really remember it entering. It burned slightly as she twisted it, crooked it a bit, and toyed with his entrance. A tongue lapped up one side of his prick and down the other.

He gasped again, as orange let up on his ribs and quietly laughed. Yellow sucked in his lower lip just as she began to tickle his sides, and a wet mouth licked and kissed sloppily up the outside of his right calf. When he jumped, trying to avoid the tickling, dancing fingernails began to tickle his left foot again, a hand and perhaps a thigh or two clamping that foot into immobility as he let loose an involuntary short shriek, and he tried more determinedly to escape the tickling as the fingertip popped out of his ass and a cool breath of air ghosted across his prick.

"Wait, no, please... just... ah!"

They... she... they were not listening. Yellow giggled and stuck the tip of her index finger loosely into his right ear, just in a spot where he couldn't stand it to be, and three hands teased mercilessly up and down his sides, and he _had_ to get his left foot out of there... he tried to kick, but she... they... she was having none of it. He was at their mercy physically, and gasping for air and breath and _frack_ he didn't even know he _was_ ticklish in the slight dip just inside his hip!

He sputtered, trying to suck in air, wriggling and kicking and none of it was working and finally he just lay there randomly _twitching_, eyes squinted shut and crying out unintelligibly. And suddenly, they were all gone. Not a hand, not a finger, was touching him, anywhere. He found himself curled into a ball, just getting away, pulling into himself... The air felt muggy, his hair was flopped in damp strands across his forehead, and he could feel a drop of sweat trickle down his forehead and into his eye as he tucked his chin against his chest, wheezing.

Her voice, strong and clear from his left, "I..."

Her voice, soft and gentle from up above his head, "...want..."

Her voice, smoky and sultry, from down near his legs, which he'd just managed to curl into the fetal position, "..._you_..."

Her voice, cruel and mocking, from just behind him when he'd rolled, "...to _want_..."

Her voice, a whisper from right beside him, "... _me_."

He uncurled slightly and opened his eyes to seek her gaze, saw only incomparable beauty barely wrapped in a white dress, and his universe tumbled into her eyes... He took one deep shuddering breath, as her voices spoke again, overlapping and echoing each other all around him, nearly soft as whispers, soft and low and commanding and controlling and seducing and claiming and wanting and her words, a statement, a request, a command, a _fact_ shattered into him as the wave of sound engulfed him, and it swallowed him whole. He sprawled boneless and two whispered words escaped his lips before his mind had time to change.

"Take me."

Her hands were on him, everywhere, immediately, and he somehow _knew_ that white had brought something cool and slippery and her hand was the one teasing his ass as his legs were held again, opening him and slipping inside and her finger was so sure and determined and there was another hand rubbing slow warm circles across his abdomen and an another open palm was stroking smoothly down his cock over and over and his arms were lifted out and up and hands and mouths were slowly gliding along the inside of his arms and there was a tongue licking at the inside of his bent left elbow and oh...

There was another smooth, slick finger inside him. Stretching, lingering, gliding and it burned like frostbite and felt so good...

He melted into the embrace of the woman beside him, and she drew her hand slowly up and down his chest, making spirals and whorls and skittering her fingertips along the edges of the scratches which were now sort of starting to itch now that he noticed it...

And then one of them blew into his other ear, and he turned his head toward it, and his mouth was captured and plundered mercilessly. Orange again, he thought to himself, as a hand or two wrapped quickly around his cock and began slowly, slowly, a rhythm steady and sure.

He felt it when the third finger entered him, but he was a bit sidetracked to do more than consciously try to relax. There were thumbs pressing firmly into the soles of his feet, digging into his arches, there were others, rubbing his calves, caressing the inside of his thighs... and the warm hand still rubbed certain, comforting circles across his abdomen, centering him as he began to feel as if the top of his skull was detaching itself and floating away.

She sucked playfully at his earlobe, and he smiled, and she backed off from devouring his mouth to give him air enough to laugh, and then she kissed the tip of his nose and the side of his neck and his shoulder and the inside of his left arm, and her tongue dragged slowly up his right leg and oh... there was her fourth finger, pressing firmly and entering him... and there were her hands steadily stroking slowly, slowly along his prick and the circles still centered him with surety, and he was lost in taking the deep breath which it took all of his remaining concentration to accomplish.

He breathed. And then he forgot to, because he felt more of the cool liquid at his entrance, and her thumb.

Oh.

The others did not slow, did not pause. He quivered, shuddered, melted as the sensations once again consumed him. He closed his eyes, and his lashes pressed firmly against damp cheeks as he lost himself.

An absolutely random and bizarre thought bubbled sluggishly into his obviously preoccupied consciousness: she had not been designed with small hands.

He moaned, arching his back, the muscles in his arms trembling. He was glad of being held... some of the hands restrained, others supported, others soothed. The mouths seemed to be everywhere, and every now and then, through his gasps and the inarticulate moans he tried to swallow, he could hear her soft voice, from all around him, in so many slightly different tones, nearly a whisper, "_I want you to love me._"

Her fist was inside him. He saw bright bursts of light, edges sparkling in his vision even behind his eyelids as he groaned, deep. He imagined what they looked like, focused on him, beautiful in their power and their desire and their manipulation and their dominance and their fascination of his odd flavor of humanity. Perfect beauty and perfect focus and perfect power and perfect manipulation and from that distance he saw it for what it was and then he was back inside himself and he didn't care. He was here, in their center, in their purpose, and he was lost and it was right.

And besides, what other choices were there?

He felt his legs being moved slightly, felt her legs straddling his waist. She was naked, they were all naked, he didn't know which she was but she was meeting his eyes and smiling and running one hand down the center of his chest, twining her fingers across and in between three other hands that caressed ceaselessly there and she slid down further and rubbed her wet heat against his straining erection and he fell into her eyes as she took him.

The universe spun as the fist shifted just inside him and she swiveled her hips and her mouths and hands slid over his skin everywhere. It was so intense that he thought he might have screamed, but he wasn't entirely sure. Every muscle in his body was on its own timeframe, its own schedule, its own prerogative... answering to whatever stimulus it could not ignore. He shook with the feelings, tumbled with them, spun and melted and lost himself into the swirling light, over and over and over as she twisted her fist and pumped it slightly in and out again and rode him rising and falling and rising and clenching and his hips tried to buck up into her but each time they did so that fist twisted a knuckle to crash right into the center of him and he could do nothing but hang suspended in the haze at her mercy.

She didn't stop when he came.

 

He didn't remember her pulling away, but the one who had been riding him was gone, and in her place was another, sucking him deep and patiently as that fist turned and twisted and continued to stretch him and flipped him inside out and back again.

The second time he came in her mouth, and he wept with the power of it, wrung out like a limp rag against the three of her who held his head and arms.

She let him catch his breath only slightly before that fist began to slowly uncurl, fingers extending into knuckles deep, so deep, and crashing in some new angle against him with every aftershock twitch of his muscles.

Then there was a tongue at his balls, lapping, and another at his sensitive tip, and he begged incoherently for more time to recover, "No, please, it's too sensitive, really, please..." and "thank you... but no, please..." and "oh, please just..."

She took him into her mouth, sucking hard against the roof of her mouth, and he groaned and tried to pull away and he thought it with some trepidation that might be orange but he couldn't really consider it because that fist was uncurling further and her wrist was pulling out a bit as the fingers extended and oh!

His back arched so fiercely he was certain he had to have pulled muscles that time, straining against itself and the ones who held him steadily still, her hands and mouths and skin rubbing and wanting and claiming and taking and oh...

A seeping warmth was creeping suddenly outward from his balls, and he weakly registered an unfamiliar spicy scent before realizing that the lapping tongue had been replaced by a hand rubbing something warm into his skin which was rapidly turning hot, hot, _hot_! He could feel the skin of his sac squirming, trying to somehow equalize the temperature against all logic and muscle memory and he was getting so very, suddenly, near-painfully hard again and he really didn't think that was a good idea and there wasn't anything he could do about it and his tongue was being sucked into her mouth again and he struggled for breath through his nose.

Heat! And he was so very, very hard! His hips bucked involuntarily and he cried out against the mouth pressing against his and one set of her fingernails scraped slowly and certainly down the back of his head, tangling in his sweat-soaked hair.

And then he felt the tugging, pulling his balls away from his body, and the strap being tied off around his balls. He turned his mouth aside from hers and simply began begging, all reserve gone.

"Please, no, don't..."

But everywhere he looked, she smiled demurely at him and whispered, "_I want you to love me._"

The ones holding his arms placed his hands on her hips, slid his hands up along her torso to her perfect tits, rubbed his palms over her nipples, and he was barely able to make his own fingers to work enough to tweak at her pink nubs. His rib muscles worked, trying to pull air in past the knife-edge feeling burning his dry throat. Every time he stopped moving, the fingers inside him curled or uncurled and he shrieked with the intensity of it as his balls broiled. He hitched his hips upward weakly again and again, his abdominal muscles burning from the exertion every time.

One by one, she rode him, worked herself against him, up and down over and over and over, until she quivered and shook with completion, again and again. He felt his entire nervous system sizzling as she ground her hips brutally against his one last time, and then she was slipping off of him and another took her place.

He whimpered, and one of her fingertips dragged down across his lips, opening his mouth slightly, and she smiled.

He lost count of her, long before his begging turned into utter incoherence.

She was hot and wet and so very strong as she clenched her muscles around him... He sobbed out a groan as she pulled completely up from him, his cock swollen and purple and throbbing with a burn he'd never have believed if anyone had tried to tell him about the feeling. And suddenly the only hand touching him was the one up inside.

He gulped for air, looking up at her, wanting, waiting, in wonder. Her face was angelic. She was an avenging angel, and her hair framed her face in a halo. Her skin was flushed with him, her cheeks pink and soft as petals as she smiled, her torso perfectly sculpted and her breasts perfect fits for his hands and her nipples standing proud against his palms when he reached for her.

The strap was loosened and gone and the edges of her eyes crinkled as she spoke, her voice low and familiar, nearly a whisper, "I want you to love me..." and she lowered herself onto him and he somehow found the strength to respond when that hand inside him commanded him to _move_ and _finally_ this time it was different. He could feel the skin of his sac tightening, tightening and the roasting burn was moving at last and he dug his hands into her hips and she cried out and grabbed his shoulders as all of her other hands were suddenly back... rubbing and skimming across sweat-streaked skin and replacing his hands cupping at her breasts and flipping a nail across his nipples and scratching gently up his neck and his eyes rolled upwards as his head fell back once more and he cried out brokenly as she came and he came and came and came and the universe spun and faded into a black burst of light and he passed out.

 

He awoke alone with a low moan, chest heaving, out of breath. The sheets were stuck to him. He raised one shaky hand to rub at his eyes and forehead, glad once again that his status as resident genius had merited him private though small quarters aboard Galactica. How he would have ever explained this sort of thing at his age was quite beyond even his formidable creativity in his current mental state.

He peeled the sheets off and rolled to sit at the edge of the bunk. His pulse was still racing. He tried a deep breath or two, but it didn't seem to make much difference. Slightly wobbly, he stood and made his way slowly to the small sink in its enclosure. His sweaty skin was starting to chill, and his tunic was soaked.

He'd need to shower, but he didn't exactly trust his knees enough to hold him steady enough yet, so he simply turned the water in the sink to warm, and leaned against the enclosure to splash the water onto his face. He splashed the water again, shaking his head a little as the excess ran into his eyes. He stood, scrubbing at his face with his fingertips, trying to rub the dream from his mind long enough to rouse himself to take his shower... but he caught a flash of pale and red in the mirror, over his shoulder.

She leaned casually against the bulkhead behind him, falsely demure, and her eyes gave nothing away.

His hands clutched at the sides of the sink as his knees began to give way.

She spoke so quietly, it was nearly a whisper, "Did you have a good dream, lover?"


End file.
